


Permission Slip

by whatabadchoice



Series: Tuesdays [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7609591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I, Dean Smith, authorize the front desk agent, Castiel…”</p><p>“Novak,” Cas supplies, grinning.</p><p>“Castiel Novak, to call me by my first name so that I don’t feel super weird whenever we chat on Tuesdays.”</p><p>Castiel blushes. <em>Actually blushes</em>. He barely refrains from rolling his eyes at himself. But… Mr. Smith noticed too. Tuesdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permission Slip

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I just realized how freaking short that first one is.... So I added this one. Listen it's gonna be more like 10 instalments I'm a trainwreck don't ask

FEBRUARY 21ST

“My dry cleaning come in yet?” he says tiredly. Castiel has to blink twice before responding. 

“Uh, no,” he recovers quickly, adopting his apologetic smile. “Sorry Mr. Smith.”

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” the man in the suit responds. Castiel smiles, genuine this time, shrugs. 

“It’s policy, sir!” Castiel counters, as usual. The man shakes his head, smiling fondly.

“I’ve been living here for a month now, Cas. And I’m gonna be here for another six at least.” 

“And I have been working here for three years,” Castiel argues. “So I would very much like to _keep_ working here for as long as possible.”

“What if I wrote you a permission slip? Like,” the man licks his lips. “I, Dean Smith, authorize the front desk agent, Castiel…”

“Novak,” Cas supplies, grinning.

“Castiel Novak, to call me by my first name so that I don’t feel super weird whenever we chat on Tuesdays.”

Castiel blushes. _Actually blushes_. He barely refrains from rolling his eyes at himself. But… Mr. Smith noticed too. Tuesdays.

“I will ask my supervisor,” Castiel responds dutifully. Mr. Smith laughs, shaking his head again. He looks like he might head up to his room, and Castiel doesn’t want the bright spot of his week to end. Dean yawns, covering his mouth apologetically while he searches his pockets for his room key. At least once a month, he loses his key and has to ask for a new one. Castiel can never bring himself to be annoyed, he just likes the extra few minutes he gets with Mr. Smith.

“Long day at the office?” Castiel asks. He never asks anything, content to let Mr. Smith talk if he wants to or go straight up to his room. But… Crowley, his boss, had been particularly nasty today. Castiel could use a pick me up. And Mr. Smith smelled _really_ good. The aggressive scent of Alpha was always less pronounced at night, and the scent of _Dean_ curled around Castiel’s nostrils like a warm fire.

If Mr. Smith is surprised about the small talk, he doesn’t let on. Instead, his eyes cloud over and he grimaces. Castiel makes a mental note never to ask him about work again.

“Too long,” he says sadly. Castiel’s heart aches. This man is a menace.

“What are you going to do when you get to your room?”

The words are out before he can stop them and Castiel winces at the phrasing. Dean smirks a little, the tiny wrinkles between his eyebrows lessening. Castiel thinks it’s worth the burn in his cheeks.

“I don’t know. Spreadsheets, probably,” Mr. Smith sighs. “I’m always way too keyed up to get anything done or sleep after work. I end up playing online poker or watching The Food Network ‘til 3 am.”

“I do that too!” Castiel says. “Except I get paid while I do it.” He smirks when Mr. Smith catches the implication. 

“Lucky you, all I get is a headache in the morning.” 

“I could help,” Castiel says.

Dean raises his eyebrows and for a moment, Castiel considers going in that direction. It would be nice. It would be _very_ nice. But Dean is clearly an alpha. His scent in the mornings is always extra aggressive. Castiel doesn’t like it as much as in the evenings, when it heats in Castiel’s nostrils and burrows into his brain. It’s not that Castiel hasn’t been with alphas before -- he definitely has -- but starting something with Mr. Smith would be all sorts of wrong. For one, he could lose his job. For two, Dean would probably get possessive, posturing and thinking that Castiel was his. 

Castiel isn’t anybody’s. In fact, Castiel is an Alpha too. That’s how he knows that it’s a bad idea. 

Still he lets the silence linger for a second too long, just to see the blush on Mr. Smith’s cheeks when he finally finishes the thought.

“I mean, we offer many services here. One of which is massage. I could book an appointment. Or you can visit our 24 hour gym, get rid of that extra energy!”

Mr. Smith smiles wide, shaking his head as if to clear it, chuckling.

“Right,” he says, laughing still. Castiel wants to lick the smile off his face. Dean leans closer, eyes crinkling, and taps twice on the counter. Castiel jumps at the sound, too busy envisioning Dean in a much different position to pay proper attention to what he’s saying.

He already knows what it is anyway.

“Wake up call around 6am then, Mr. Smith?” he confirms. 

“Thanks, Cas,” the guest replies, having found his key and dawdling by the front desk. “And, uh, thanks for asking. You know, about my day.” 

Dean smiles bright and vulnerable, and Castiel tries not to think about how it would feel to bite into his plush lower lip, to hold him down and take…

“‘Pleasure, Mr. Smith!”

Castiel smiles brightly to cover for the fact that his heart is pounding. Mr. Smith is only a few feet away and that rich, earthy scent is becoming hard to ignore.

“All mine,” Dean says, and Castiel shivers involuntarily.

When Mr. Smith finally leaves, Cas has to take a few deep breaths before continuing his reports. He thanks the powers that be for the solitude of night shifts because he knows his face is flushed and his scent is probably all over the place. But so what? Let Mr. Smith smell the arousal on his skin, barely concealed by the blockers he wears at work. The man is young, successful (if the four months in a hotel was anything to go by). Castiel sometimes could smell the attraction on April when she finished her shift at eleven. And if he ever smelled it on Mr. Smith, he would take it as a compliment. 

And probably jerk off in the shower later.

Castiel sighs and turns back to his reports. Six more days until Tuesday.


End file.
